Grand Romantic Gestures
by GraeLiars
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy would like to know what, exactly, one is supposed to do when your arch-enemy/team-mate/haunter-of-dreams repeatedly tells you they love you, only to completely forget come sunrise? He's just enquiring, you know, for a friend. Companion piece to 'Four Times...'
1. Declaration 1 - Doorstep

_Ok, so after asking which you'd prefer to read first, I decided to split the difference and at least upload the first chapter of Scorpius' POV a little bit before the last chapter of Rose's story (which is only a matter of hours away so by the time some of you get this notification there will be one for the other too, so you'll get both at once – yay!). If you're reading this and have no idea what I'm talking about, check out my other piece '_ Four Times Rose Weasley Woke Up In Places Other Than Her Bed' _which is a companion piece all from Rose's ROV._

 _These are all direct companions to Rose's chapters, so this is what happened that lead to Rose waking up on Scorpius' floor. The next will be what happened to lead to Rose being on his roof, and so on and so forth. Still some bad words, and yes, eventual smut, but not till the end (because I'm one for making you wait for it haha)._

 _Hope you enjoy. And if you do, or even if you don't, please drop me a review. I will be ever so thankful. I'll also do my best to reply to them in a somewhat timely manner._

 _Disclaimer: Like always, I don't own the characters, just the situations._

* * *

 ** _Declaration 1: Doorstep_**

Scorpius Malfoy is not unaccustomed to women telling him they love him.

His mother had been affectionate his entire life, attempting, he always assumed, to compensate for his father's total lack of intimacy or outward displays of love. She had told him daily how much she loved him. Despite his name and the reputation it carried, he had managed to catch the eye of several girls at Hogwarts who would whisper sweet nothings and pour out their hearts in the darkness of broom closets and secluded nooks when the threat of being found out after curfew only heightened one's emotions. And although he had not had a serious or lasting relationship in his adult life, being the Captain of an International Quidditch team (and leader of ' _The Bad Boys'_ as it were) only intensified his sex appeal beyond his inherited beauty. Therefore having female fans pledge their everlasting devotion to him – or straight up propose marriage, because nothing says 'wife material' like a crying stranger wearing a wedding dress and screaming at you whilst faithfully reciting your season's stats at you as some sort of proof of authenticity – was not entirely uncommon. It was part of the job, part of his life. He had learnt very well how to deal with them – a smile here, a wink there, and, if he were feeling particularly punishing, an air kiss in their direction. It was all in a day's work really.

What he was completely unprepared for, however, was receiving such a declaration from Rose Weasley.

Rose Weasley. Fire cracker incarnate, life-long rival, one-time teammate, pain in his ass, and haunter of his dreams. The one woman he had never imagined would – or even _could –_ love him, was standing on his doorstep (in a dress that hugged every damn curve so tightly that he found himself thinking it was damn unfortunate that he was only wearing thin pajama pants because they didn't hide a goddam thing) and professing to have the kind of feelings one only found in fairytales.

And she was angry.

And she was crying.

"This isn't fair!" she wailed with a stomp of her foot that very nearly put a hole in his porch.

"Rose," he said, edging cautiously towards his very drunk World Cup teammate and Captain where she swayed precariously, "I think you should step inside."

"I don't _want_ to go inside!" she stomped her foot again and almost overbalanced, "I _want_ to go to the party!"

The party to which she referred, he assumed, was the Hall of Fame after party, which Scorpius had elected not to attend. He had his niece Amelia's ( _well technically she was a second cousin on his mother's side, but she called him Uncle so it was all really just a case of semantics)_ birthday party tomorrow and really didn't feel the desire to be hungover when surrounded by an army of 3 year olds. Besides, he was trying to refrain from alcohol while the season was in progress – a rule Rose had obviously not set herself – and therefore wanted to avoid temptation, such as the aforementioned after party.

Scorpius watched her for a moment and tried to assess why, precisely, she seemed to be under the impression it was his fault that she wasn't there currently. All he got in response was a glazed-over stare with the odd hiccup thrown in for good measure.

"Well I shan't stop you…" he left it open-ended, which only seemed to infuriate her further.

"But I _can't_ go to the party!" she said much too loudly considering it was 1:30 in the morning. Although he had deliberately chosen a quiet neighbourhood in which to reside, his neighbours would notice this disturbance should it go on long enough. And the last thing he needed was a newspaper headline of him and Rose Weasley shouting at each other; he was gossip fodder as it was, he did _not_ want to intensify the situation. He dragged a hand through his hair ( _and completely missed the way Rose followed the movement with her eyes whilst licking her lips_ ).

"Well, why not?"

She suddenly looked incredibly sullen and grumpy ( _and goddam adorable, Merlin smite him)_ before answering softly, "Because you aren't there."

He tries his damnedest to process that sentence, to make any sense of it whatsoever, but he honestly comes up short. Scorpius has no idea what that means.

 _(Have no doubt, he could guess. He could guess a thousand wondrous things about star-crossed lovers, and forbidden desires, and dreams of being wrapped in nothing but bed sheets, but he won't. Because he resigned himself to his fate long ago when he first accidentally set her hair on fire in third year and she almost murdered him for it – Rose Weasley would only ever see him as a rival and nothing more. And if Scorpius were a smart man, he'd think of her in the same, purely platonic way. Turns out Scorpius wasn't very smart.)_

"I…" for perhaps the first time in his life he is honestly at a loss for words, "I don't understand…"

" _Oh by the crust of Merlin's saggy left bollock_!"

She had an unmatched gift for exclamations and swears.

Before he can comprehend what's happening she's taken two very decisive steps towards him to stop only when they are practically nose-to-nose. Had he not had his fear response instinct practically beat out of him through Qudditch over the years, he may have stepped back at the intimidating gesture. As it stood, he merely held his ground and looked down into her bright blue eyes.

She takes a sturdy hold of his dressing gown, whether its to hold him near or simply steady herself he isn't sure, but she's holding his gaze with the same determination she does right before the snitch is released at the beginning of a Quidditch match.

It's fierce.

It's unyielding.

 _It's fucking sexy._

Rose takes a breath and speaks the clearest she has since he opened his door to find her yelling up at his windows not 10 minutes ago.

"I only went to that damn party because I wanted you to see me in this ridiculously uncomfortable dress instead of my dirty Quidditch gear, and I wanted you to hurry up and realize you're in love with me," he sucks in a breath because he's quite sure now is time to brace for the apocalypse because surely hell is being unleashed on Earth. She continues without taking a breath, "Because I've loved you for too bloody long and I am _sick_ of you not noticing and it's not _fucking fair_ that I should have to put up with these stupid feelings while you get off scott free!"

 _Wait. What?_

Love? _Love?_ No, no that wasn't possible.

Was it?

He's not even sure if Rose is capable of love. He's not even sure he is. No, he's not in love. Yes, his stomach drops when he sees her. Yes, he holds his breath when she speaks to him, perhaps waiting for her to confess something not unlike she's doing now. Yes, he pays particular attention to the games of Quidditch she's involved in. Yes, he takes special pleasure in playing the Harpies. But that's because he wants to _beat her_ , not because he _loves her_.

Ok, so he can't explain the stomach-dropping or the breath holding just yet, but that's because its 1:30 in the fucking morning. He's sure there is a perfectly reasonable, entirely platonic justification for this. That is absolutely not related to the dreams he has of her. Because that's just his brain malfunctioning, nothing more. Infatuation at most, but certainly not _love._

Or at least he hopes not, because that would be fucking inconvenient.

Rose sways on her (ridiculous) heels but holds steady and rubs her nose against his and damn him to hell if he doesn't rub back just the tiniest fraction, and _when the devil did his hands go to her hips?_

He's just holding her to make sure she doesn't fall over. That's all. Honestly.

"So if I'm cursed with these bullshit feelings, then you should have to be too."

And then she does it.

Rose Weasley smacks her lips into his entirely too gracelessly to do their first kiss justice. Scorpius has dreamt of this happening entirely too many times for this to be how it finally happens. She's too eager, he's too stoic, and when she forces her tongue into his mouth with a grunt and literal physical force, it isn't anything like what it should be. Mostly because all that's running through Scorpius' brain right at that moment is _WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK?!_ And he honestly can't stop from noticing the pungent smell and taste of Firewhiskey that practically marinates her. This isn't how it should happen. This isn't how he wants this to happen.

Rose pulls back with an obnoxious sounding 'smack' when their lips separate, looking entirely too pleased with herself for that horrid display of affection. They'll do better next time, he promises himself, if there's a next time.

 _No, not if_ \- _when_. _He may not love her (yet. But then again maybe he does), but he is sure they will lock lips at least once more and it will be a darn site better than that._

Scorpius watches in dazed confusion as Rose's face begins to descend from proud self-satisfaction into a horrifying mix of fear, disgust and anticipation. Her skin tone pales, suddenly tinged with green, and he knows what's coming only seconds before it arrives.

With an almighty, " _HUUHGGGRH!",_ Rose lunges forward and vomits all over his feet.

And then she's crying again, and apologizing, and yelling at him, and vomiting, all while he is staring serenely at the stars and wondering if this is some kind of payback for his past lives. Trying desperately hard to ignore the squelching feeling of regurgitated food and alcohol between his toes, Scorpius puts on his gentlemen's pants and shepherds Rose inside.

"Come on Rosie," he coos softly, trying to direct her away from his more expensive items of furniture, "Let's get you to the bathroom."

They manage to just make it to his ensuite before she hurls again, and thankfully this time it lands in his (freshly cleaned) toilet bowl and not on his person like last time. Scorpius quite unceremoniously drops Rose on the floor beside the toilet and hurriedly sits on the edge of the bath, filling it half way as quickly as possible to rinse his feet.

 _Carrot._

 _There is a motherfucking chunk of carrot stuck between his big toe and his second toe. This is perhaps the most disgusting thing he has ever dealt with in his entire life, and he spends a large portion of his time in men's locker rooms._

His internal fury and disgust is interrupted by an echoed voice coming out of his toilet.

"Why does it burn so much?" she moans between hurls.

"The perils of drinking Firewhiskey, I'm afraid," he can't keep the bite out of his tone because _excuse me but he is fishing fucking vomit-carrot-chunks out from between his toes._

Another moan. "Why does it taste so good going down but burn so bad coming up?"

He finds himself, somewhat reluctantly, unable to be truly angry with her. After all, he has been in a similar situation himself many times. He doesn't think he's ever vomited onto someone's bare feet before, but he's certainly had his head in a toilet or two in his time. But good lord she was pathetic. His heart swelled a little more at the sight behind him, Rose's dress hooked up over her bum, body completely covered in some of the most uncomfortable undergarments/body stocking he had ever seen (he thought they may be referred to rather elusively as _shapewear_ ), her head completely out of view from being burrowed into his toilet bowl, with nothing but the edges of curls visible out the top. Never before had something so revolting appeared so endearing.

 _Just another reason to l-_

 _Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just back up a minute there buddy. We've had this conversation not two minutes ago, and we decided that was a bad plan._

Just because she started waxing lyrical about her undying love didn't mean his own head had any right jumping on that dangerous bandwagon. Scorpius Malfoy's heart was a fiercely protected beast; there was no telling what havoc it was capable of wreaking should it be freed from it's cage. _So let's just put that line of thought to rest before we get too far ahead of ourselves, shall we?_

He comes back to himself when the toilet bowl lets out a strangled whimper.

"I'm dying!"

He sighed heavily, "You're not dying."

"I am!"

"Dying women don't speak."

"I'm not speaking, I'm wailing. And dying women wail all the time!" _Well damn, she had him there._

Her spluttering and incoherent murmurs coax him away from soaking his feet (the last visible signs of vomit long washed away), and he pads softly towards her before dropping to sit beside the huddled mess of limbs clutching at the base of his toilet.

"Surely a few shots of Firewhiskey aren't enough to kill the indestructible Rose Weasley," he rubs the space between her shoulder blades and she sighs long and loud. He probably shouldn't do that again. It elicits a completely uncontrollable physical reaction down in his nether regions, which could only lead to dangerous situations.

 _Because having sex with your Captain – who is Rose fucking Weasley – is most certainly not what you want to be doing right now._

 _Ok, so maybe it's what you_ _want_ _to be doing, but absolutely no one can know that. So pipe down Junior! You will only makes things difficult._

"There may have been more than a few," comes the voice from the bowels of the bowl. He chuckles lightly at that, continuing to rub her bare back a bit more to help ease the hacking she is overcome with every few moments. _And absolutely not because her skin feels so nice beneath his fingers. No, definitely not because of that._

Scorpius ties her hair back with a sparkly hair elastic Amelia left on the floor last time she decided to come thrashing through his apartment like a hurricane. Rose lifts her head with what is apparently all the strength she has left, and rests it against the rim of the toilet bowl, sighing at its coolness before she burps loudly and rather grotesquely. The sigh turns into a groan and were he not concerned she may truly be dying, Scorpius might actually laugh at her misfortune, at his own misfortune, at this whole utterly ridiculous situation they found themselves in. As it stands he's just kind of praying she keeps breathing, and trying really hard not to focus on those three little words she proclaimed so angrily at him earlier.

He glances down at her and sees one bloodshot eye peak out at him through a few stray curls Amelia's one sparkly hair tie could never dream of capturing and taming.

"I really do love you, you know, you insidious prat," she croaks, her throat coarse from vomiting and if he were not physically repulsed by the sheer thought of coming into contact with her breath he would be dearly tempted to kiss her. Again, but this time properly, taking their time and learning each others' taste and _savouring._

But if there is one thing he does not want to savour right now, it's the taste of Rose's mouth.

He mulls over what she's just said and it elicits a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes for sure now, her head practically dangling in his toilet bowl, just how far from her normal self she is presently.

"You're incredibly drunk Rosie," his voice sounds sad, even to his own ears. He's too tired to pretend to be smug right now.

"And irresistible – tell me something I don't know!"

Scorpius cracks a smile despite himself but it doesn't reach his eyes. He suddenly finds this whole silly situation much too depressing to deal with. Especially at 1:30 in the fucking morning.

 _What sort of people are they that the only time they can be honest with one another is when one of them is so blind drunk they barely remember their own name?_

"I'll believe you when you're sober."

"So in the morning then."

He can't suppress the snort that escapes him, "I doubt you'll be sober by then."

"THE MORNING!"

He gives her a faint smile and concedes defeat for now, "Ok Rosie, I'll believe you in the morning."

His surrender earns him a smile that mirrors his own. Which quickly descends into a look of ' _Oh God not again'_ that he recognizes all too well. Rose's head disappears into the confines of his toilet bowl and she releases another torrent of past nourishment from the confines of her stomach.

Scorpius had sat on that floor for close to an hour, rubbing her back and soothing her as she cried and wailed at her self-induced misfortune. He had tried to coax her off the floor multiple times, but she simply growled at him ( _literally growled. Like an animal)_ and curled around the bowl whimpering. He decided he wasn't as much of a gentleman as he thought and returned to bed, determined to at least hold up the pretense of sleep, contemplating how, exactly, the following morning is going to play out.

It's 6:45am when he finally gets out of bed at the sound of Rose stirring on his ensuite floor. He accios his pre-made coffee and meanders towards the doorway, hoping he's successfully adopted the air of indifference he tries to keep up whenever he's in her presence.

And Scorpius knows, at the first scowl she shoots him when she hears his voice that the words spoken last night could not be further from her mind. His gentle interrogation only confirms as such. He tells himself not to be disappointed; it wasn't the first kiss with Rose he wanted to have anyway. And surely she didn't honestly love him. And it wasn't like he loved her either.

Not really. Not _that_ much.

Scorpius finds himself envying his Captain/rival where she lies on his floor, for he would give anything to forget her words. It would surely prevent the damned sleepless nights that follow for much longer then anyone would consider healthy.

* * *

 _Ta da! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Next chapter will be at least a week away I daresay as it's barely written, but we'll get there eventually._

 _All my love!_

 _Grae xo_


	2. Declaration 2 - Written in the Sky

_Ok, so after a few of you commenting about the first part being a bit angsty I thought about how I had pictured these oneshots going and realized you were right – Scorpius' pieces are likely going to be full of some angsty stuff rather than just the frustrating ramblings of Rose. So rather than having this listed as a Romance/Humor, I've changed it to just romance. I'm hoping its not going to be too super angsty, and it'll have a nice ending obviously, but yeah, bulk feelings._

 _Without further ado, here is part two! Your reviews are always treasured so please feel free to tell me what you think. I know a lot of you are keenly awaiting part three, so I'll try to get it finished relatively quickly._

 _Disclaimer: as before._

* * *

 _ **Declaration 2: Written in the Sky**_

All he could say was that it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

He was in the midst of a post-win euphoria, the reality that they were _in the World Cup final holy crap,_ had started to sink in and it was all they could do to grin at each other like idiots in the debrief post-match. Someone had said that they should go out for a quiet celebratory drink, but they soon hit a snag when trying to figure out where they would go. And that's when it happened.

Scorpius heard someone say, "My place is available," and it had taken him a solid 2.5 seconds to figure out it was he who had spoken. Before he could desperately pull the words back into his mouth, Maurice, his fellow beater and chairman/founder of the ' _Get Scorpius Malfoy to Socialise More Club'_ , smiled brightly and announced very loudly in his booming voice that always drew attention, "ˆ _OK EVERYONE – TO SCORPIUS'!"_ No one moves quickly, in fact everyone turns and looks at Maurice like he's just grown an extra, rather repugnant head, before shifting their gazes to Scorpius as if seeking clarification, and he can't say if its to confirm that Maurice is ten types of crazy or if its Scorpius whose insane for actually volunteering. He's tempted – very, _very_ tempted – to throw Maurice under the metaphorical bus and let then just believe he was shit stirring, but then he sees it, _her_ , looking at him with wide eyes that are still sparkling with pride at the recent win. She looks happy – honest to God _happy_ – at the prospect of going to his house for a few quiet celebratory drinks.

And it is for that reason single reason – because Rose Weasley _smiled_ , Merlin smite him – that there are now a team full of drunken elite Quidditch players currently trying to drink shots of top-shelf Firewhiskey from their foreheads without using their hands.

Some of them are pairing up, using their toes to try and grasp the shot glasses and then pour them into their partner's mouth. Some are trying to flip them as quickly as possible and then catch them in their mouths, which more often then not just results in shot glasses flying across the floor or smashing against their noses.

Scorpius surveys the site before him as he opens _another_ bottle of very fine Elven wine that he is more than a little unhappy with sharing with these darn loveable drunkards.

( _Oh? Upset are you? Who exactly were you hoarding these bottles for? All those close friends and family members you often have over to entertain? Let's be honest here Malfoy, you don't entertain. Ever. This, right here, these people, they are your friends – this is the exact purpose you buy these bottles in the first place.)_

The whole thing is ridiculous. He should have known better the second someone said ' _a few quiet drinks to celebrate'_. Because that is never the case. No night that starts as 'a few quiet drinks' ends quietly. It ends with people doing handstands on his couch, and shots off foreheads, and people charming his piano to play songs they then change the lyrics to, and someone, somewhere, hollering about being stuck in a cupboard (he's quietly confident they'll live, so no biggie).

But it all seems worth it, because standing there, in the middle of it all is a smiling Rose Weasley.

She may have a bucket stuck on her head ( _where did they even find a bucket?! He's quite positive it isn't his)_ , but she's smiling all the same. In fact she's laughing. _Loudly._

Maurice is standing near by, apparently trying to give her directions to wherever she and/or the bucket need to go to, although if he knows Maurice even half as good as he thinks he does, Scorpius knows his fellow beater is just feeding her fake information. This is proven the second he commands her to turn quickly, resulting in Rose lunging straight into a column. You know, one that;s holding up his house. One that he would very much like to not have too severely damaged as long as it's not too much to ask.

Rose lands with a loud ' _plonk!'_ on her ass – Scorpius is sorely tempted to offer to kiss it better, but thinks better of it. He may be drunk, but he's not quite drunk enough to start propositioning his Captain in front of the whole bloody team.

Not yet, anyway.

Rose explodes into more laughter and is soon joined on the floor by Maurice, whose giant frame has caved in on itself by the force of his laughter.

It takes Scorpius several long moments – during which there was probably an inappropriate amount of staring – to notice he's laughing too.

"You know, right?" The familiar voice of one of his teammates breaks him from his awkward un-returned star-a-thon with Rose. Scorpius turns, trying very hard to not look like someone who's just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, to face Freddie Langhorn, a chaser and friend of Rose's from the Harpies. With her wispy pixie cut hair and her large doe-like green eyes, Freddie is incredibly alluring, and even in a world full of witches and wizards, always manages to look a little more magical than anyone else. She looks like the kind of girl who you would not be surprised to see chatting to woodland creatures and singing songs to inanimate objects.

Her appearance, Scorpius thinks, is the ultimate disguise, because if there is one thing that Freddie Langhorn is _not,_ it's delicate.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asks, adopting his ever-faithful cloak of nonchalance.

"'Bout Rose," Freddie nods in the direction of their fearless leader who is now trying to do a headstand with her bucket still on, "You know, don't you?"

She isn't delicate and she's certainly not straight forward either. It's enough to give him a headache.

"You do realize you aren't actually making sense?" he hopes to insult her a little to end this conversation quickly, because he has suspicions as to the direction it's heading and he certainly doesn't want to be discussing these things now. ( _Or ever, really)_

His attempt at intimidation is only met with an eye roll before Freddie continues, unperturbed, **"** You know how she feels – about you?"

And if his hand tightens and also makes the bottle fall from his grip, it is completely unrelated to the blonde's comment.

He clears his throat, "I'm sure you don't know what you're talking about."

She raises an eyebrow at him that is just 100% pure sass, and crosses her arms. Scorpiud raises his glass to his mouth because yes, adding alcohol always helps you think clearer, good work old chap. ( _Idiot)_

"Oh so you don't know that Weasley is head-over-heels in love with you, then?"

The drink was a bad idea – Scorpius chokes on it. He recovers after several seconds and prays to god his little display hasn't garnered any unwanted attention.

"You're quite mad, has anyone ever told you that? Like a doctor, perhaps?" his voice is raspy from when his life was almost snatched from his grasp by the combined effects of alcohol and Freddie Langhorn's interrogation.

"Don't try that, Malfoy," she's smiling brightly as if she's just won the World Cup all by herself, "I see it all. The way she looks at you, how her laugh changes when you're around, how she's always looking at you during team meetings, how the two of you flirt _all the time…"_

Scorpius shakes his head to both tell her she's wrong and to clear those images from his mind, because lord knows he has enough trouble keeping Rose Weasley from his thoughts, he doesn't need to put any more fuel on that fire.

"You're making monsters out of shadows," he answers quietly and curses himself for sounding so… _effected_.

She sounds honestly stunned when she squawks, "What?"

Scorpius follows her lead and performs a stellar eye-roll, "It means you're seeing things that aren't there."

She steps back from him for a minute and her eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline. Her look of mixed confusion and disbelief is quite frightening. He hadn't just confessed something he shouldn't have, did he? Not that he really has anything to confess. He swears.

( _And do not say a thing to undermine the statement heart!)_

"Wow," the pixie of death draws the word out, "you just compared being loved by someone to a 'monster'."

Scorpius was growing incredibly tired of this conversation very quickly.

"It's a saying!" he defended, not too loudly so as not to attract attention from others milling about (although with the headstand championship still taking place on his couch that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

"You could have said 'mountains out of molehills', but you said monsters," Freddie sets one of her hips against the table and crosses her arms, eyes examining him like he's some kind of puzzle she wants to dissect. He doesn't like it, "You know my cousin's a squib, and she does this 'psychology' stuff, and I've heard her talking about it and I reckon she would just _have a field day_ getting inside your hea-"

"I'm walking away now!"

And walk away he does, carrying his newly opened bottle of wine to hand off to one of his teammates that really doesn't need it, but _fuck it they just made the fucking final!_ Just as he's off-loading the bottle to his extremely jolly Keeper, Rose stands, very uneasily, and proudly announces to the room, " _I need to shit!"_

Scorpius has momentary glimpses of the horror that was cleaning his toilet post-Rose vomiting and prays to all heavenly bodies in existence that what comes out the other end isn't as bad.

The team cheers – because of course they do, she's they're Captain and everything she says is gospel – and Rose salutes them from behind her bucket head before turning proudly and cautiously edging in a direction she thinks might be the bathroom.

She's wildly off-path.

Scorpoius takes it upon himself to direct her in the direction of the guest bathroom, taking her by the elbow and walking her slowly down the hall.

"Malfoy?" comes the muffled voice under the bucket. He wonders how she knows it's him.

"Yes, tis I Captain."

"I need to shit," she says, placing her hand over his where it rests on her wrist. He tries very hard not to stumble.

"So I've heard," he smiles as she starts singing something under her bucket.

"You're lucky," he adds as he directs her towards the correct door, "I've made your room up especially."

Rose pulls the bucket off with a great deal of difficulty just so she can have the pleasure of sticking her tongue out at him like a five year old. He tries very hard not to find it endearing. Rose saunters into the room with a stumble and closes the door. Scorpius goes to rejoin the party, smiling to himself as he hears Rose start singing a song that could quite possibly be the Harpies' anthem.

* * *

Its at least an hour later, when Scorpius has finished fare welling the last of his guests (all of them finally recognizing that perhaps these few quiet drinks best be finished soon considering most were struggling to stand), that Rose emerges, her head buried in a copy of _Quidditch Weekly_ that she holds in her hands. Scorpius recognizes it as one that was sitting mid-way through the pile he keeps beside the toilet in his bathroom.

"Did you see this?!" she says indignantly, falling into a wall a little in her haste to rejoin what she must think is still a party, "They ranked _Valentino_ above _Banks_ because he is – and this is a direct quote – ' _such a powerful icon of the game'_. They're giving him extra credit for being pretty! Can you believe it?! He-"

Rose looks up to find the room empty save for Scorpius who is casually sending empty glasses to his sink, too tired to be bothered doing it delicately by hand.

"Where is everyone?" she asks, the offensive Quidditch article apparently forgotten.

"They've gone home," he's sitting comfortably at his dining table, enjoying the last of what surely is at least one glass of wine too many, "You've been in the bathroom for well over an hour. Must have been one hell of a shit you took."

Scorpius momentarily has horrible visions of what dastardly surprise awaits him to clean tomorrow morning when he can be bothered. _Dear Merlin have mercy._

Rose throws the magazine at him, which catches the wind and just kind of flutters into the kitchen, not anywhere near Scorpius at all. It would be mighty embarrassing if anyone else had witnessed England's Captain and best Chaser fail so spectacularly.

"I was reading, thank you," she says haughtily, sitting across from him at the table with a huff, "Why has everyone left? I wasn't done dancing."

"It's very late," Scorpius hears himself slurring and finds it oddly hilarious – _since when have you ever slurred you drunken fool? And would you stop smiling so much – you'll give yourself away!_ "Or, more accurately, quite early."

Rose looks about his apartment apparently in search of a clock but comes up short. She huffs and crosses her arms, sliding down in her seat until the only thing he can see of her above the table is her frowning face. He feels her feet come to rest on his own and that is much too distracting to be healthy.

"It's never too late to dance, or too early," she huffs again, "It is always time to dance."

Scorpius finds them falling into a companionable silence, just sitting and looking at each other across the table, her toes slowly climbing up his ankles. The words of Freddie Langhorn come wandering back through his head and he needs them to stop, because he's having a hard enough time convincing himself it's a terrible idea to even _think_ about kissing Rose Weasley again, he doesn't need someone else weighing in and unbalancing the argument currently circulating through his head.

"You should probably go home, Rose," _probably, the key word is probably._

Rose, being the stubborn mule that she is, ignores him.

"Surely we can put on some music," she stands abruptly and stomps over to his record player in the corner of the room. Scorpius does not miss how she stumbles into the arm of the couch. He may be drunker than he's been in a long while, but Rose is quite smashed.

He really needs to stop thinking about kissing her.

She surprises him in the haste and ease with which she turns on the device, and then fiddles with the nobs until she manages to make music begin to play. It's music he's very familiar with; slow soothing jazz that he plays to himself late at night when his thought's get too much for his mind to contain. He looks over and sees her begin to sway her hips to it, slow and graceful and surprisingly in time. Scorpius really wishes he hadn't, because he is willing to bet a small fortune that the music won't be anywhere near as calming anymore with that image burned into his brain.

Rose turns, almost overbalancing in the process, and holds her hand out to him.

"Dance with me Malfoy," she commands, speaking as his Captain, her nose in the air and allowing absolutely no room for argument or disagreement. He stays silent, not knowing which of his options would be worse – accepting her offer or denying her. He certainly knows which he'd prefer, but as for which one is best, of that he is truly uncertain.

"Scorpius," she says, wiggling her fingers at him more insistently, her face dropping from commanding to pleading and Merlin save him he is incapable of turning her down, "I'd like to dance."

Swallowing the last dregs of entirely too expensive wine in his glass, Scorpius accepts his fate as a lovelorn servant of the glorious redhead before him, at least for tonight, as he stands and meanders towards her slowly. He likes to make her wait, it gives him a false sense of having some sort of control over her and this situation they find themselves in. He knows it's a false hope, but he likes to hold onto it, all the same.

Rose is swaying on her own where he meets her in the centre of the open-plan living room, her eyes closed and hand held out to him as she hums along to the melody. She's disastrously off-key but he doesn't comment on it. Scorpius takes her hand, watches her smile at the contact and wraps his arm around her waist, trying very consciously to keep her at a far enough distance to keep them within the realms of propriety.

Rose, it becomes apparent, has other plans.

She steps into him, invades his personal space and his senses, letting out a sigh when her head rests against his chest. He feels her let out a grumble.

"You're so tall," she complains, craning her head up to meet his gaze, "Too tall. We can't dance like this."

He doesn't say a word- doesn't utter a syllable – in fear of breaking this little trance they find themselves in. Instead he simply holds her tighter, lifting her slightly and sliding his feet to the tips of her toes. Rose cottons on quickly, looking down at her bare feet as they stand atop his own. It brings her closer to his face, a fact he's not sure he's thankful for terrified of. Rose smiles again and closes her eyes once more, humming along to the sound filling the room.

Scorpius doesn't think he's ever been quite so happy or miserable in his life.

Here he stands, swaying to his favourite music with Miss. Rose Weasley, both of them dressed in their horrid matching tracksuits, her standing on his feet to help alleviate the height difference. And Scorpius knows, because he is a selfish man, because he is a stupid man, because he is a lost man, that he is holding her too tightly, and his hands are too low on her back, and he is letting his mind wander to places it has absolutely no right to be. But it's there all the same, and he hasn't the desire or will to pull it back. So he dreams, as he stands here with her in his arms, head resting again his chest; he dreams of what they would do if they weren't so intoxicated, if they hadn't a history, if he was a better man that deserved her. He dreams of kissing her slowly, of sleeping late in the morning, of sharing breakfast. He dreams of hearing her laughing with him, of falling asleep with her in his arms, of savouring all of their many moments together.

Scorpius Malfoy – the stupid selfish prat that he is – smiles to himself and lets his head rest atop her own just for tonight, just this once, because even the worst of men deserve one small blessing, don't they?

They continue to dance, turning in slow, messy circles, his grip getting a little bit tighter as her hands begin to slide under the back of his shirt. This is dangerous territory. Incredibly dangerous territory. And were he a better man he'd put an end to all this now.

Scorpius Malfoy is not a better man.

The record ends but Rose doesn't seem to notice, not immediately anyway. And Scorpius, the masochistic self-loathing bastard, isn't game to tell her because he doesn't want this dance to end. He's fairly sure this is the closest thing he will ever get to holding Rose Weasley the way he wants to, and therefore he hopes to savor it as long as physically possible.

After long minutes of swaying that end far too soon, Rose finally wakes up to the fact that the music has stopped and pulls back to look up at him, her eyes struggling to focus.

"Where's the music gone?" she asks, the last word stifled by a yawn. It hits him again, just how much they've both had to drink and just how inappropriate it would be for either of them to make any kind of move as they are right now. But Merlin help him he wants to. He wants nothing more than to tilt her face towards his and capture her lips with his own, give them the first kiss he wants them to have.

But he'd never forgive himself in the morning. And he doubts she would either. So he just smiles at her and releases his grip a little, hoping she gets the hint that she should remove herself from him. She doesn't. And funnily enough he doesn't care.

"He stole it," he answers, whispering conspiratorially, trying to make a joke out of this whole situation because it's funny isn't it? It has to be. If it doesn't make him laugh it'll definitely make him cry.

"Who stole it?" she whispered back, dragging him closer as if they're formulating a plan. He physically stops himself from smelling her hair – _because that's what serial killers do Malfoy, you don't want her thinking that, now do you?_

"The Moon," Scorpius absolutely does _not_ play with her hair, a curl just wraps itself around his finger, honest, "He's trying to tell us it's time to sleep."

"No," she whispers with a smile, "I think he wants us to stay, he hasn't anyone else to entertain. I think we should keep dancing for him."

 _This is a bad plan. Probably the worst idea anyone has ever had. This is definitely, 100% against the rules of 'How To Be Friends With Your Ridiculously Attractive Captain Who Once Told You She Loved You."_

 _He's never been much good at following rules anyways…_

So he continues to sway, peaceful and enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his own much too much for anyone good, listening to her off-key humming of some song that may or may not be the national anthem. Her head rests against his chest and he rests his own atop again and _sweet Merlin you need to pull back Malfoy. Abandon ship!_

Rose hums against his chest and snuggles in closer.

 _Bad plan. Bad plan._

 _So why have your arms tightened around her Malfoy? Huh? Care to explain that one?_

"It's late Rose," he hears that his voice lacks conviction but perhaps if he says the words that will count as him trying to deny what's happening, will count as him 'doing the right thing', "You need sleep. We both do."

"And you have a bed," she says into his chest, "I'm sure it's big enough for the two of us."

Aaaaaaand now all he can think of is the both of them in there. Naked. Mighty unhelpful considering they're pressed so close to each other.

 _Things are going to get incredibly awkward very soon._

"We can't do that, Rosie," why is he patting her hair? _Are you patting her hair Malfoy?!_

"Why not?" her hands crawl higher up his spine and it makes his toes curl in the most delicious fashion. He has to remind himself to breathe.

"Because you would regret it tomorrow."

Rose shakes her head against his chest before looking up at him, her chin now against his chest and _wait. When did their faces get so close?_

"No I wouldn't," she says it emphatically and he desperately wants to believe her. He just can't.

"I don't believe you," he whispers it but she hears clearly, her brow furrowing in annoyance. Rose goes up on her tiptoes, her feet still atop his own, and rubs her nose against his.

"What would it take," her lips are so close, so _very, very close,_ "to convince you?"

"I don't know," he chokes out a laugh, and smiles as brightly as possible when he's feeling so rotten, "A grand romantic gesture?"

Rose's face lights up like she has a sudden brilliant idea as she steps back from him, stumbling a little in the process. Scorpius mourns the warmth of her contact but also knows that it's probably for the best – they were almost beyond the point of no return. Rose is mumbling to herself and before he knows it, she has her broom in her hand and is heading out the door.

"Come on, Malfoy!" she calls as she runs into his front yard. Scorpius follows her, fearing what injuries she might cause herself if she doesn't stop.

"What are you doing Rose?" he calls as he fumbles into the darkness that is his front lawn. Before he properly gets his bearings, Rose is suddenly in front of him, throws an arm around his neck, and kisses him quickly right on the lips.

Just like that.

As if it were so simple.

As if it was something they did everyday.

 _If only._

"Giving you your grand romantic gesture!" the words can barely pass past her smile.

In the next beat she's pushed off into the sky, a trail of what appears to be white light streaming behind her.

Brilliant. She's skywriting. Drunk. There's no way this will end badly.

Scorpius watches, bewildered, as Rose spins and twirls through the sky, the only sound her maniacal laughter and occasional ' _weeeeeee!'_ when she does a particularly adventurous turn.

It's over in about 10 minutes, big bright cursive script sprawled across the night sky. Rose lands, somewhat precariously on his roof and proudly sticks her broom (which he believes is named Hermes) into his chimney and puffs her chest out proudly.

"Well?" she says with a bright smile, "What do you say to that?"

Scorpius looks up at the sky and reads the message she's taken her sweet time to write. Scorpius assumes what she meant to write was:

 _Rose Weasley loves Scorpius Malfoy_

But what she has actually managed to scrawl is:

 _Ru53 Weslg lows Scrotipus Nafog_

Scorpius is honestly stunned and has absolutely no idea what he is supposed to say.

 _Scrotipus? Scrotipus?! _

He could never tell Maurice about this - he'd eat him alive and be calling him 'Scrotipus' until his dying day.

"Well?!" Rose tempts him, apparently unhappy with his silence.

"Well," Scorpius looks at it and speaks the honesty his drunken mind will not allow him to withhold, "It's a bit shit, isn't it?"

Which, it turns out, was precisely the wrong thing to say.

" _A BIT SHIT?!"_ never fear about sharing a bed, he's sure he'll never be holding her close again now, " _I AM THE BEST SKYWRITER IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE FAMILY THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"_

"I don't doubt it love," he says with a shrug, "You're family just mustn't have set an incredibly high standard."

" _I don't believe it!"_

And that is the last phrase he's actually able to make out as Rose mutters and grumbles to herself, stomping around his roof with absolutely no regard for the fact that she could quite literally fall off at any moment. He summons' his wand – silently impressed at his ability to catch it despite the lack of light – and casts a few charms to ensure Rose Weasley doesn't fall off his roof and break her neck. He certainly doesn't want that being held over his head for the rest of his life.

"Rosie, come inside," he calls to her, but all that his offer is met with is a very defiant " _fuck you!"_

"Rosie," he yawns and realizes that he might just be a lot drunker than he realized, "It's…late…"

"I know it's late Mr. _Grand Romantic Gesture_!" she yawns she sits herself down on the roof, eventually lying down against what has got to be one of the most uncomfortable surfaces to recline along, "Why do you think I'm lying down?"

"You can't sleep on my roof."

" _Well I'm not welcome in your bed!"_ she shrieks back at him, somehow managing to sound indignant while she's sprawled on his roof, almost invisible now that she's lying down.

 _Oh, if only you knew Rosie. I would welcome you with open arms._

He tries to coax her down for several more moments until he hears the soft sound of her snoring and realizes, against all the odds, Rose Weasley has managed to pass out on his roof. He really should get her down. He really should help her off the roof, let her sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. He _should_. But he doesn't. Because if she's outside his house he might just be able to convince himself she isn't here, and then maybe he might be able to sleep, because lord knows if she's inside that's all he'll be able to think about and he'll not be able to sleep at all.

Scorpius has no doubt he'll still dream of her – he has been for months now, why should tonight be any different? – but maybe this way it won't be quite so restless.

Consoling himself with the fact that he's put up the shields and she should be relatively safe because of it, Scorpius heads back inside with a yawn, dreading the hangover and awkward conversation that will likely eventuate tomorrow morning.

He dreams of dancing and red curls and off-key humming and kisses that are all too brief.

* * *

The following morning he has a headache that might just be the worst in his working memory, but Scorpius finds it dissipating when he nearly laughs his ass off when Rose falls off the roof and into his hedges. The look of thunder she gives him is only fuel to the fire in the pit of his stomach, although he'd be lying if he claimed to not be effected by the fact that she forgot their dancing. Scorpius neglects to tell her what she wrote in the sky; let's her believe she wrote something about someone's scrotum because telling the truth is much too much to think about at this early hour.

And before he knows it, Scorpius is having breakfast with Rose Weasley. As they munch on croissants and discuss the upcoming match over hot coffee, Scorpius can't help but think he's a little closer to paradise, and he realizes that this, right here, is exactly what he's always wanted.

He keeps his opinion to himself, and prays to god that last night's dance will not haunt him quite as much as her last declaration. When Rose laughs so loudly at one of his comments that she spits a piece of croissant across the table, he just knows that that won't be the case. In fact he's sure he'll dream of nothing _but_ dancing until Rose figures out a way to torment him more.

He both dreads and hopes for it.


	3. Declaration 3 - Let Them See

_Hello Lovelies! It's been quite a while and for that I apologise, but I wanted to get this chapter right so it took a bit longer than anticipated. Thank you all again for your reviews and support – it inspires me and keeps me going when things get tough. I hope this lives up to the expectation._

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _As the name of this website would suggest, these characters are not my own._

* * *

 ** _Declaration 3: Let Them See_**

Rose Weasley has gone missing.

On a regular day that would be enough to make news on its own accord, but considering today is the day of the Quidditch World Cup Final and Rose is supposed to be captaining the English team playing in said final, it's of particular concern. In fact, if someone were counting the minutes until play, they would know that Rose is expected to fly out leading her team in approximately 47 minutes.

For the record – Scorpius Malfoy is counting the minutes.

And it is because he is counting the minutes, that Scorpius Malfoy has made it his personal mission to track down Rose before everyone else seems to realize the clusterfuck of a situation they are on the verge of if their captain doesn't decide to reappear very bloody quickly.

Scorpius is scourging every back corridor and broom closet in the underground foundations of the stadium in search on his gallant leader, trying – somewhat unsuccessfully – to convince everyone he isn't panicking. Because he is panicking. A great fucking deal.

Its at the exact moment that Scorpius is wondering just how the hell he is going to make his way back to the team rooms because he has no fucking idea where he is, that he hears it – the small whimpering and hushed murmuring that appear to be coming from the broom closet he is currently trudging past, robes in a flurry behind him. He freezes, turns to the broom closet and approaches it in a manner not dissimilar to how one might approach a ravenous beast. When he slowly opens the door, he sees exactly what he was expecting.

There, huddled in the corner of the dark closet, is Rose Weasley, softly sobbing into her knees, hair completely obscuring her face from sight. Scorpius has the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. He fights very hard against his urges.

When he softly says her name – ' _Rosie', because that's what she'll always be to him_ – she looks up at him like a startled animal, eyes red-rimmed and breath uneven.

"Sc-Sc-Scorpius?" she stutters, looking equal parts embarrassed and horrified, "Wha…what are you doing h-here?"

He smiles down at her for no other reason than to try and coax one out of her ( _because that's been happening more often these days – he smiles and she smiles back. He tries to tell himself it means nothing)_

 _(But he knows better)_

"Looking for my captain," he says with his usual charm, "Have you seen her?"

That manages to earn him a cough that could have easily been either a scoff or a laugh as she attempts to inconspicuously wipe her nose. She isn't very inconspicuous. She rolls her eyes but can't look at him as she wipes the tear trails from her face. Rose stays silent so he presses a little more.

"Her name's Rose Weasley," he says, smile fading slightly as he takes the opportunity to just openly look at her – he doesn't get to do that much, lest someone figure out the horrible truth that is what he feels for Rose, "She's slightly taller than your average goblin," that gets him a scowl, "hair that's wilder than a horntail," that gets him a smile, "and a spirit so tenacious she could tear the head off a basilisk," her eyes roll and he watches her light fade again.

"Nope," she says as her lips starts to quiver, "I haven't seen someone like that."

"Rosie," he sighs and drops to his knees to be sitting before her, "Why are you in a broom closet?"

She starts shaking her head and the lip quiver spreads to her entire chin. Scorpius really, _really_ just wants to hold her. She doesn't say a thing. So he pries.

"Rosie?"

Her response comes so softly that if he didn't have every fiber in his body focused on her then he probably would have missed it.

"Because I can't."

It doesn't make sense to him, so he shuffles closer on his knees ( _like a particularly unbalanced duck_ ) and lowers his head closer to hers to hear her better.

"Can't what, Rosie?"

"I…" he watches as the horror takes over her face and her breath comes in quick, too-shallow gasps and eyes well up, "I _can't!"_

And then she throws her head in her arms, hugs her knees to her chest and starts wailing. Scorpius does not know what to do with a crying Rose Weasley. In fact it wasn't until this exact moment, when he's witnessing the event himself, that he even contemplated the possibility that Rose was capable of crying. And even if she could, he had never thought of any possible situation wherein she might feel it appropriate to do so in front of him.

And if he's being completely honest with himself, he rather preferred that alternate version of things because honestly, _what the fuck does one do with a crying Rose Weasley whose supposed to be captaining a bloody Quidditch team in less than an hour?!_

 _(Seriously, if anyone had any ideas he'd gladly hear them out, because right now all that's coming to mind is to do that whole 'wrap his arms around her and never let her go' thing which he's very resolutely against doing because that would make their uneasy friendship awkward as fuck)_

 _(Not that it isn't awkward as fuck already with the whole 'her declaring her love for him numerous times' thing and the whole 'him being so emotionally crippled that he can't say it back', thing)_

 _(Their almost-relationship has a lot of Things)_

Just when he's about to start hyperventilating from this whole situation, she swallows her sobbing for a moment and croaks out, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly, Rosie. You're allowed to cry."

 _But in future if you could warn him beforehand so he could make sure there was someone else nearby who could do the whole 'emotions' thing that would be much appreciated._

Scorpius' heart is hurting seeing her unhappy and he'd really very much like it to stop.

"But I don't want you to see me like this."

"Why not?" Don't get him wrong, he could hazard a guess – Rose once told him that she'd hoped he'd attend a party just so he could see her looking stunning, him seeing her with snot running into her mouth is probably the exact opposite of the image she wants to present to him – but he asks all the same if for no other reason that to be polite.

 _(Because his mother raised him to be a civilized gentleman, dammit, and he will use those skills at precisely the moment they become useful. Like now, for example.)_

"Because," she huffs out a heavy breath into her knees and shrugs her shoulders, "I'm a mess."

"I'll be the judge of that."

And before he has the faintest of ideas just what the hell he is doing, Scorpius reaches forward and buries his hands under the mane that is her hair, taking Rose's face in a gentle grasp and lifts her face until he can finally look her in her very red eyes.

 _Dear Merlin she's beautiful. Even like this, especially like this. His hurricane is always beautiful._

He can't stop the smile that's on his face and for some reason he simply can't seem to look away from her eyes.

"Well look at that," he's whispering and he doesn't know why, "Absolutely no sign of any mess," _leave it at that, leave it at that, dear God please just leave it there, "_ Just as stunning as always."

 _Fuck you Brain. You too Heart, because I know you had something to do with this._

Rose looks away from him and even in this light he can tell she's blushing. He drops his hands because he probably shouldn't go grabbing people's faces like that – he's sure that's probably considered impolite.

 _But then Rose did puke on his shoes once so maybe a little impropriety would make them even._

"Don't bullshit me, Malfoy," she's whispering too. He's not sure why they're whispering but it makes everything feel a lot more intimate than he's used to or prepared for, "I can't deal with that right now."

Rose sounds defeated. They haven't even flown onto the pitch yet and she already sounds like she's lost. There's something in the air that tells him, for whatever reason, that he's responsible for this defeat – for the destruction of the infallible Rose Weasley. And he simply couldn't live with himself if that was the case.

"I'm not bullshitting," he gives her a gentle smile that she doesn't return.

Scorpius knows why she's scared – it's a huge responsibility to be the team captain, but she's played incredibly well and lead fearlessly their whole campaign; he can't imagine why she'd start doubting herself now. She's gained the respect of all her team members and coaches, she has been faultless in her performance with the media, and the fans adore her. She's scored goals, she's dodged bludgers, she's implemented trick plays and pulled off truly astounding moves that have the crowd cheering her on. Rose is perhaps her most magnificent in flight, because you can see it in every one of her movements just how much she loves being in the air, how much she craves the wind in her hair, how truly free she feels when she's soaring above them all. A fearless wonder.

 _(Scorpius very deliberately doesn't think about her flying above his house, attempting to write their names in the sky. Because then he'll remember their dancing, and he will be entirely too eager to try and convince her to do it again, right here in the broom closet if necessary)_

Scorpius knows she's going to go out there and stun the crowd, knows she's going to play her best game yet of the season – now he just has to convince her of that.

"Why are you so worried?" he asks, keeping his tone light. But still whispering – _why are you doing that?_

"Because it's the final!" she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "The _entire world w_ ill be watching!"

"I hate to break this to you, Rosie, but the entire world has been watching most of the series. Hence it being the _World Cup_ ," he shrugs, "And you've played brilliantly up until now. Its just another game, remember."

"Way to sprout the clichés," she says with a huff that he's not entirely sure he deserves, "And you know as well as I do its not just another game – it's the final. The integrity of the entire nation is in our hands Scorpius – _the entire nation!_ "

Ah, so it appeared Rose had been catastrophising again. How unusual.

"You got us this far, Rosie – that's reason enough to hold your head high."

"Pfft!" she scoffs and shoots him a knowing smile – _there's his hurricane_ , "Like you're not going out there to beat the shit out of the others and win this thing."

Scorpius beams at her and it doesn't escape him that her smile changes to something less challenging and more genuine.

"Well of course I'm going to, darling," he shrugs and tries to remember when he started using these pet names in a non-ironic way, "It's what I'm here for. Slytherin to the bones, love."

She raises an eyebrow, "I'd challenge that – seems like you're being a bit of a Hufflepuff now."

He dramatically clutches his hand over his heart and lets out a pained gasp.

" _Such insult!"_

That manages to finally crack a laugh from her. Finally.

Scorpius settles back on his haunches and looks up at her from under his eyelashes.

"You do realize, if you tell anyone, I'm going to have to kill you."

She laughs again and she sounds free and he is so goddam proud of himself for being the cause of that. Her laughter dies down and they sit in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few moments

"I'm scared Scorpius," she whispers, looking him right in the eye and not hiding anymore. Scorpius nods and takes her hand and _dear Merlin skin contact was a bad plan because it just feels so fucking right._

"I am too Rosie," _have her eyes always been so blue? Yes,_ "But no matter how scared we are, we are going to fly onto that pitch and play our goddam hearts out, and we're going to be glorious."

She nods and stays silent for a moment before smirking at him in a manner that is hauntingly similar to himself.

He likes how he looks on her.

"Playing in spite of fear? That sounds like courage," she raises an eyebrow and his heart isn't hurting anymore, it's just skipping beats, "Mighty Gryffindor of you, Malfoy."

"That's the sign of a true Slytherin, Rosie," his smile darkens and there are too many shadows that they could so easily hide in that he really should stop it, "Cunning enough to disguise themselves as anything they wish."

She hums in contemplation and he tries to remember when they got quite so close to each other because he swears her lips weren't always as close as they are now.

"Nice cover, but I ain't buying it," her eyes move over his face and he is goddamn terrified he might give something away, "I think you're just a genuinely good guy."

They're silent for a moment before Scorpius whispers, "Don't tell anyone; I've a reputation to uphold."

Rose smiles at him, somewhat sadly. They sit in silence for several moments and Scorpius congratulates himself on being able to bring her back to herself. He wants to sit here for longer, wants to bask in the fact that he can just look at her and sit this close and be this comfortable with each other without alcohol hazing their vision. But the fact remains that the whole reason he came to find her is that she has a team to captain and they have a match to win and they really need to get back.

Scorpius stands with some difficulty – his body feels older than his 26 years – and holds out a hand to her.

"Come on, Captain," he says with a smile, "There's a bunch of Italians eagerly awaiting a total annihilation. It would be awfully rude of us to leave them wanting."

Rose takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet.

She doesn't let go of his hand.

He doesn't let go of hers.

He tries not to think about it.

He thinks about it a lot.

They walk in what he hopes is the right direction down the corridor back towards the team rooms in an awkward silence for all of fourteen seconds before Rose lets out a disgruntled huff and lets go of his hand. And if he had to describe the action, Scorpius would say she did it angrily.

He looks at her, immediately in defense mode, and is met with her glaring at him.

"Why do you have to make it so difficult?" Rose exclaims, hands flying to her hips. _Tread carefully, Malfoy._

"What am I making difficult?" Scorpius is honestly baffled, "I swear I'm only trying to help."

Rose lets out a harsh laugh completely free from mirth. He wonders what he's said that's supposedly funny.

"That's the problem!" Scorpius watches as she seems to descend into madness, words coming fast and loud, "You're all sensitive and caring and compassionate and funny and it annoys the _crap_ out of me because I'm trying _so hard_ to hate you and you're making it _really difficult_ for me to remind myself of all the reasons why kissing you is a monstrously terrible idea."

There is silence.

Earth-shattering silence.

Scorpius does not whoop loudly or let out a proud ' _come here and I'll prove it's a great idea'_ , because that would be extremely undignified but by lord he is tempted. He very carefully retains his mask of indifference as he watches her. Scorpius can see the exact moment when Rose comes to the realisation of what, exactly, she just said, and to whom she said it. Her eyes grow wide, her mouth drops open and she completely stops breathing for several moments.

"Oh fuck me," she murmurs, absolutely mortified.

Scorpius fires back without even thinking, "I would love to darling, but we should probably try that kiss out first."

That just seems to enrage her further.

"See!" she points at him accusatorily, "You're still being charming, even when I make a complete ass of myself! Could you just… _not_? It'd make navigating my thoughts a whole lot easier."

He finds it strangely comforting that she's feeling the same confusion as he is. In fact he's so comforted by the fact that he simply cannot stop himself from smiling.

"Sorry, love," he's not sorry, not even close, "I haven't a choice when it comes to you."

"Haven't a choice to what?" she juts out a hip and he wonders if she has any idea how attractive it makes her, "To not be charming?"

"Precisely," he's smiling like a goddam fool and despite what every self-preservation instinct in his body is telling him, he finds himself strolling towards her slowly, "you bring it out in me."

"Try harder," she deadpans.

Scorpius laughs openly and congratulates himself on getting the old fire back in her eyes. She smiles at him laughing and he almost curses aloud because he is fucking screwed. He is so fucking in love with Rose fucking Weasley it hurts.

"This is great," she keeps watching him as he comes to a halt right in front of her, "If I managed to fuck up this conversation than how the hell am I gong to survive the match?"

And then Scorpius really fucks things up.

He cups her face in his hand and runs his thumb over her cheekbone totally without his brain's permission, or Rose's for that matter. And then he looks her in the eye and sees she's terrified, and for some reason that makes him feel a little better. Because he's terrified too. His voice comes out low but true when he speaks.

"You're going to do great. You're going to lead this team and wear your heart on your sleeve and you will be glorious, just like always," he says with much more sincerity than he thought he was capable of when talking to a woman, "And win or lose, everyone is going to remember that."

She swallows hard and licks her bottom lip, and Merlin Almighty he is a dead man.

Scorpius stays where he is, the pad of his thumb running over her cheekbone which he can feel heating beneath his skin, as she stares at him as if she can't quite believe what's happening. Well, that makes two of them.

And then he fucks things up – royally – a second time.

"I wouldn't stop you, you know."

Rose keeps holding his gaze, eyes asking the question she can't seem to force her mouth to ask.

"If you wanted to kiss me," he clarifies, "I wouldn't stop you. I'd probably thank you, actually, seeing as I am so painfully close to begging you to do just that most days."

Her eyes widen in clear surprise; Rose is very obviously shocked by his little confession. She doesn't know? _How could she not know?!_ Scorpius thinks he's been obvious in the way he stares at her and the way he smiles and how he lingers every second he's in her presence. How they have their jokes and they laugh louder around each other and he is constantly making excuses to touch her that he's sure he's been entirely transparent in how he feels. Scorpius has been as close to a lovesick puppy as one is capable of when you're a fully-grown human man. She can't truly be surprised. Surely a person as glorious as Rose Weasley is used to all kinds of people telling her they love her – surely it shouldn't come as much surprise that Scorpius does as well?

He watches, holding his breath, as her face falls and she tries to force words out of her mouth.

Well Merlin be damned, Scorpius Malfoy has managed to make Rose Weasley speechless. Who'd have thought it?

She splutters for several moments, completely baffled apparently, but doesn't manage to vocalize anything of any significance. And then she's silenced, and her eyes drop to his lips and Scorpius thinks, _yes, this is it_

He ducks his head towards hers, begins the slow descent towards what he's been dreaming of for so long. She doesn't stop him. _Sweet Merlin she isn't stopping him._

His hand slips from cupping her cheek to holding her head, inclining it up and forward towards his own. She still looks a little terrified, he is too, but he has to take this opportunity – has to show her what's been hiding behind his jokes all this time. Has to prove what he means even if he can't quite say it yet.

She's shaking. He is too.

Scorpius vaguely notices the sound of their names being called by someone who might be the assistant coach who must be pretty close if his voice is travelling this far. It startles Rose; it doesn't dissuade Scorpius in the slightest.

"Someone might see us," she whispers, her hand sliding up his chest, contradicting her apparent hesistation. He smiles.

"Let them."

He leans in to finally complete the task – to finally kiss Rose Weasley for real – the approaching footsteps the last of his concerns. Rose is still stammering.

"Scorpius I…we…" she stammers and his mouth is just inches for hers – mere _inches_ , and holy Merlin this is actually going to happen. And then two words break it all.

" _We can't."_

Scorpius freezes, his eyes still trained on her lips – they're trembling and still so very, very close to his – because he has to take a moment to compose himself before he is able to look her in the eye. He steels himself and looks at her briefly only to see the seriousness in her face, the apology written in her eyes, as the hand on his chest applies gentle pressure to push him away. He plasters on a fake smile because that's what he's good at, and looks away. He can't stand to see the pity in her face.

It only takes a moment for all the insecurities he's accumulated over the years, that he had tried so very hard to banish to the dark recesses of his mind, to come flooding back, screaming at him that it was obvious she was far too good for him, did he honestly think it would end any other way?

Scorpius thinks it odd, that somehow his heart can break but continue loving her regardless. It's shattered yet continues as it always had. He wishes once it was broken that it just ceased to function. It would make situations like this all the more easier. But instead it just hurts – it _aches_ \- and yet he loves Rose all the same. It doesn't seem fair. What a useless purpose the heart serves.

"Yes," Scorpius breathes before choking out, "Of course."

He lets out a little puff of air that may have been trying to pass itself off as a laugh but fails painfully.

"Foolish of me, really, to even dream it," he tries to swallow whatever is rising in his throat, "Forget I said anything."

And damn him to hell if that doesn't sound like he's begging.

"I don't think I can," she murmurs back, words almost swallowed by the emptiness that suddenly feels like it's not just around him but engulfing him. Scorpius straightens up as he drops his hand, finally removes himself from her personal space and returns his gaze to her own finally. Her hand drops back to her side and Scorpius tries not to think about all the things he would do just to have it wrapped around his own again.

"Try harder," he attempts to make his voice light but he knows he fails. She does too, but Rose has enough mercy left in her to pretend that she didn't notice. And he only loves her even more for it.

Scorpius drops his head and looks at the floor because honestly it's just getting too painful to look at her anymore. He hears someone calling their names again and takes it as his very convenient way to opt out of the most uncomfortable situation he's possibly ever been in.

"Let's get you back," he says softly, his voice still cracking unattractively, "Your team needs you."

They walk to the adjoining corridor in silence to be met with their frantic assistant coach who berates them both for disappearing. Rose murmurs an apology, Scorpius gives him a look and stays silent. As soon as the AC starts talking about game preparation Rose seamlessly transitions back into Captain-Mode, talking animatedly about set plays and defence plans. Scorpius dawdles behind so there's no chance he'll accidentally meet her gaze.

It's perhaps the first time he's ever really acknowledged just how empty his hand feels when it's not pressed against some part of her. He misses her warmth. He resigns himself to never utter a word about this whole encounter to anyone.

* * *

He doesn't hear any of her speech.

He doesn't look at her or any other members of the team in fact.

Scorpius simply stands at the very back of the pack, holds onto his broom and prays it keeps him upright whilst he stares aimlessly at the floor. He's been such a fool. All those drunken confessions obviously hadn't meant a thing. For Merlin's sake she was swaying around with a bucket on her head last time – did he honestly think that was a person who was thinking clearly? No, of course not. She'd probably be just as likely to declare her love for an armchair as she was to proclaim to have such feelings for him. He is a disillusioned, _stupid_ man for ever entertaining the idea that Rose Weasley could ever even like him as a person let alone allow herself to love him. He suddenly finds a new respect for how detached and isolated his father is – keeping yourself away from people means you don't get hurt. It's genius really.

Scorpius decides then and there that he is not going to get emotionally attached to anyone or anything ever again. It hurts too goddam much. Nothing can be worth this. _Nothing._

He's pulled from his inner monologue of solemnness by a change in Rose's tone towards the end of her speech.

"Oh fuck it!" she grumbles rather loudly, taking everyone in the room by surprise. Scorpius tries not to look at her – honestly he does – but it's a little hard to avert his eyes when the crowd in front of him splits as she barrels towards him with a face that looks like thunder and determination all rolled into one. Scorpius has precisely no fucking idea what's going on.

Rose stops before him, staring up at him with a look that suggests he's done something to displease her terribly. Like, say, oh perhaps trying to force himself onto her in a darkened corridor? That would probably do it. He waits for the blow that is surely coming to his nose.

"If I don't do it now, I'll be thinking about it all bloody game," she declares, a seriousness he rarely sees in her painted across her features. _The Hurricane returns._ Rose's eyes dart behind her to where the rest of the team is looking at them with varying expressions of bewilderment and suspicion. He watches as she steals her nerves before declaring, " _Let them see."_

And then, just like that, Rose Weasley - _Rose bloody Weasley –_ throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Right there. In front of everyone.

Scorpius is grinning like a fool which makes kissing her back a little difficult.

He perseveres regardless.

 _This_. _This is how their first kiss was meant to be. This is the real one – those other two messy displays of affection don't count, but this –_ _this_ _– is what he's been dreaming of._

Scorpius wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her into him, lifts her off the ground and kisses her back just as soundly, his lips moving against hers. He looses touch with the concept of time and propriety and simply basks in the fact that the woman he is in love with is in his arms. She bites his bottom lip playfully, runs her tongue across the same spot; she's tempting him and he isn't usually one for public displays of affection but _fuck it_ this had been a long time coming. He opens his mouth as per her subtle request and revels in the little moan she lets out when he sucks her tongue into his mouth to meet his own. Not that anyone hears it – they're all too busy cheering to hear a goddam thing.

( _He thinks he sees Maurice pointing to their Keeper, Gruber, and saying something about him owing him money. Scorpius makes a note to follow that up later_ ).

Rose pulls back, beaming at him, and he knows her expression is reflected on his own features. He may be a fool, but if this is what comes of it, then by lord it's worth it.

 _Scratch that thing about not getting emotionally attached to anyone._

 _(It was too fucking late for that anyway)_

"Damn," she breathes, eye flicking back to his lips, "I'm still gunna be thinking about it all game."

He smirks because _hell yes she will be thinking about that all game._

"Makes two of us," he confesses. She smiles back at him.

 _Yeah, he's never going to get sick of that._

He sets her back down on the ground and watches as she shakes her robes back into place and makes a useless attempt to somewhat correct her hair. Scorpius makes no such attempt – let everyone see what she does to him. He's proud of it.

"Now," she squares her shoulders and looks at him with a fierce determination that doesn't completely conceal the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, "There's a group of Italians out there that want to take home The World Cup. I say we go out there and disappoint them."

 _You should stop smiling Malfoy, you look like a goddam fool._

 _A goddam happy fool._

 _(But that's exactly what he is so maybe it's not such a bad thing)._

"Lead the way Captain."

The Italian team flies onto the pitch with their game faces on, looking fierce and aggressive in their white, red and green robes.

The English team, on the other hand, are all grinning like a bunch of idiots; two more so than the others.

Flying around the stadium, wind in his hair, Scorpius is hard pressed to think of a time he was ever happier.

That is, of course, until the sixteen minute mark when Valentino's hit strikes Rose right in the side of her head from barely four feet away. Scorpius doesn't hear the sound of bones breaking when the bludger connects with her head. Doesn't hear the crunch of more bones shattering when she hits the ground. Doesn't hear the calls of the crowd. All he hears is screaming, and it takes him several minutes to realise it's coming from him.

He sees blood and bruising and prays to anything thats listening that she's ok. _She has to be ok._

He can't lose her.

* * *

 _I did start writing what happened in the match/hospital, but I figured that this piece is supposed to just be about the 'declaration' side of things. I might sneak bits of it into Chapter 4 instead. Also if anyone's scared I've left you on a cliffhanger, go check out 'Four Times Rose Weasley Woke Up In Places Other Than Her Bed' and flip to chapter 3 - the outcome of her fall shall be revealed._

 _Your reviews, as always, are appreciated and adored._

 _Next – the big crescendo! Might take a while, but we'll get there eventually._

 _Until next time,_

 _Grae xo_


	4. Declaration 4 - Truth in the Changerooms

_AN: Sooooo this was just gunna be a nice little snippet to finish off the quadrilogy, all fluffy and stuff. And then I went and wrote 8000 words of angsty-ish stuff instead. Whoops. Sorry on the delay, my health has been playing up again, and I honestly wasn't sure which direction I wanted to take a lot of this in, so it took longer to put together than the rest of it. But here it is, done and dusted. Hope you like it._

 _Alternative title for this chapter is 'In which every plan fails'._

 _Disclaimer: as with every chapter beforehand, these characters do not belong to me. I just like to borrow them and take them on adventures._

* * *

 _Declaration 4: The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing But The Truth in the Change R_ _ooms._

Scorpius Malfoy would like it noted that he had a plan, and it was a damn good plan too.

Unfortunately, ' _had'_ was the operative word.

His (most recent) plan had included the respectful and romantic wooing of Rose, just as she deserved. He had a speech prepared for her after the match, wherein he would confess to her that he felt their rivalry had evolved into something more, and he was pretty damn sure she knew that too, and that he would very much like to take her to dinner to see how else their rivalry/relationship/thing could continue to evolve. From there, Scorpius had planned to cook her dinner, take her out dancing, spend endless nights talking until sunrise, fly through the city at dawn, do anything he could just to see her smile or laugh. He had thoroughly planned out each of his moves and had put together a, quite frankly, brilliant scheme to make her his. Admittedly he didn't think it would take too much convincing, after all, she'd kind of told him she loved him a few times; surely she'd be willing to go on at least one date.

So yes, Scorpius had had a plan. And nowhere in said plan did it include kissing Rose in the middle of a Quidditch pitch surrounded by thousands of fans.

Knowing this, Scorpius is left wondering just how, precisely, he had managed to get himself into a situation wherein that was exactly what he was doing. In the briefest of brief moments he had until he lost all ability to think clearly _because excuse me but he was kissing Rose Weasley who came back from the dead not two months ago,_ Scorpius tried to identify when his plan had gone so horribly wrong.

* * *

The first time the plan took a turn for the worse was when he had failed at step one. Step one had been very simple and very strict – it was a promise he had made to himself that as soon as Rose woke up (because she was going to wake up dammit, no matter what the looks on the doctors' faces insinuated) he was going to tell her he loved her. He thought she probably knew, after all they had kissed right in front of _everyone_ just moments before heading out on the field. Even if she apparently hadn't woken up to the fact until that very conversation in the hallway beforehand, surely now she knew.

Regardless, Scorpius was going to tell her, very simply, that he loved her and he thought they should be together and also she was never allowed to play Quidditch again because _holy fuck she almost died._

But then Rose woke up, and before he had the opportunity to kiss her senseless and wrap her up in his arms and protect her for forever, he found out she'd forgotten. About _everything_.

She didn't remember the hit. She didn't remember flying onto the pitch. She didn't remember her speech. And she definitely didn't remember their conversation in the hallway or kissing him in front of their team.

She remembered nothing.

So he said nothing.

Rose had been coming to grips of losing her memory, not to mention all her other injuries, and it would have been entirely selfish of him to go ahead and add the burden of his desires to her plate of worries. And Scorpius didn't want to burden her.

( _He had heard a voice in his head not entirely unlike Maurice's that had called him a coward. He ignored that voice)_.

So Step One hadn't gone to plan. And with Step One not going ahead, Steps Two through to Four couldn't go ahead either. He would have to go to Plan B. And step one of Plan B was to work out what the fuck Plan B was. All it seemed to involve right now was fleeing The Krum Facility as soon as physically possible before he had a heart attack ( _which, now he thought about it, was quite unwise, because if there was any place he was likely to survive a heart attack, it was probably The Krum Facility_ ).

So Scorpius had owled her parents, told them simply that she had woken up, and then flooed home without a second thought, the feel of her clammy hand in his own tattooed on his skin.

He would plan, he told himself as he stripped off his Quidditch robes and took very labored steps towards his bedroom. He would plan and he would woo and he would do his best to prove to Rose that he loved her. Just as soon as he had some decent sleep.

* * *

The following morning as he brooded over coffee, Scorpius realised that he had never actually wooed a woman with the intention of keeping her before.

( _Keeping her? She's not a stray mutt you insensitive dunce! Mental note: be more respectful)_

Scorpius' experience in pursuing a woman usually started at a bar and finished the following morning. He wasn't exactly one for 'long term engagement' with females of any description. He had a fleeting thought of asking his father how he had gone about courting his mother, but then realized that conversation would probably be more painful than pulling teeth so he decided against it. Scorpius never seriously considered asking his mother her opinion; if he did he would have to explain why he was asking and who he wanted to court and then he would be forced in to the very difficult predicament of attempting to keep his mother out of his romantic affairs, a feat he knew very well he was ill-equipped to handle.

Scorpius then entertained the idea of casually dropping it into conversation with the lads that he wanted to ask a girl out and get ideas for how they had managed to snag themselves girlfriends in the past. This plan was quickly shot to hell when he realized that his friends, much like himself, were full-time bachelors and therefore wouldn't have a fucking clue what to do, much like himself.

So he was on his own, a lone wolf trying to catch his mate.

 _Ok seriously, enough with the canine metaphors._

He didn't think it appropriate to just appear on her doorstep and ask her out, and given that they were no longer training together on the English team it left him with few opportunities to casually interact with Rose. They were technically rivals again now that the World Cup had ended, so they didn't really cross paths very often unless it was at press gatherings and the like.

 _(On an unrelated note, Scorpius tried to think about the World Cup final as little as possible, which proved difficult seeing as he was being brought before the tribunal to respond to 'unsporting and endangering play' allegations made by Valentino. Scorpius thought the Italian was damn lucky he'd only walked away with a few broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. He was conscious – unlike Rose – so he got off lightly as far as Scorpius was concerned)_

Scorpius decided that the best way to contact Rose was via owl. That would be nice wouldn't it? A bit old fashioned – and a little reminiscent of passing notes at Hogwarts – but it was charming. At least that's what he told himself. So Scorpius sat at his desk, pulled out a quill and wrote the first thing that came to his head.

Which was, evidently, sweet fuck all.

Scorpius couldn't even think of how to start the damn letter let alone tell her how he felt. He fell back into his Hogwarts mentality when he had to write those painful History of Magic essays, and decided to just start writing and hope for the best.

He decided to stick to what he knew worked – team gatherings. After all, that was how she (consciously) arrived at his apartment last time.

* * *

Attempt one:

 _Hey Captain,_

 _The team are coming around for dinner and drinks on Tuesday, if you're feeling well enough it would be great if you could come along too._

 _Hope to see you there,_

 _Scorpius._

No, no, no. Too much room for error. What if she asked one of their teammates to go along together and then they professed to know nothing of any supposed dinner and drinks? Then he'd have to confess he was planning to lure her to his apartment under false pretenses in the hopes of eventually getting her to date him.

Which kind of sounded exactly like a felony now that he thought about it.

He considered actually inviting the team to dinner and drinks, but upon remembering how shit-faced they all got when they last invaded his home, Scorpius couldn't trust that one of them ( _read: Maurice)_ wouldn't mention something they shouldn't, like Scorpius and Rose's very public display of affection before the final.

Scorpius scrunched the paper in his fist and dropped it into the waste bin beside his desk.

Attempt two didn't fare much better.

* * *

Attempt Two:

 _Dear Rosie,_

 _I watched you die. It scared the pants off me. Therefore you owe me pants, but I'll settle for dinner._

 _Cheers,_

 _Malfoy._

* * *

Scorpius scowled at himself. _How very eloquent._ Goodness his mother would be appalled. No, no, no, Rose deserved something grander. Something more fitting of the Malfoy reputation. Heaven knows he'd received his fair share of dinner party invitations ( _thanks in no small part to his "dearest" Aunt Daphne who liked to show him off like some trophy in front of her friends. "My nephew – the_ famous _Quidditch star", she'd say, never mind the fact that she'd basically been unable to remember his name until he made the major leagues),_ surely he could muster something a little more suitable.

In fact he could even use one of his mother's old invitations as a template.

Work smarter, not harder.

Setting his mother's invitation ( _which reminded him that he had to go to brunch with mother's friends and spawn this Sunday. That sounded just as much fun as being slow-roasted by a Hungarian Horntail)_ beside his own piece of parchment, Scorpius wrote out his third attempt at inviting Rose to dinner.

* * *

Attempt Three:

 _The Master of the Household has received Master Scorpius Malfoy's command to invite_

 _ **Miss Rose Weasley**_

 _To dinner at_

* * *

It wasn't even finished and Scorpius had already put down his quill and thrown out the piece of paper. It was too grand. This wasn't one of his mother's garden parties, not to mention the fact that he didn't have a 'Master of the Household' like his parents did. Rose would read it and think it was all a joke and turn him down quite spectacularly he was sure. He needed something more casual. Pulling out another piece of parchment he tried again.

* * *

Attempt Four:

 _Rose,_

 _Let's cut this bullshit; my bed is big enough for the two of us. Let's just put everyone out of their misery and become a couple already._

 _Your future lover,_

 _Scorpius Malfoy_

* * *

WHY WAS THIS SO DIFFICULT?! He highly doubted Rose would take very kindly to only receiving an invitation to dinner for the sake of everyone else's sanity. Way to make a girl feel wanted, Malfoy. And there isn't actually any mention of dinner in there at all. Just bed. Smooth.

He was sorely tempted to poke himself in the eye for his insolence.

Then he wouldn't be able to writer any more letter. Which might be a good thing.

 _No! Stay on target!_

* * *

Attempt 5:

 _Rosie,_

 _I love you, let's get nachos_

 _Malfoy xo_

* * *

Oh Merlin that was even worse. _Although Rose does love nachos_ …no. She deserved more than that. And maybe just coming right out and starting with those three big words was perhaps not a great move.

 _Jesus why was this so hard. Just tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel. Surely it shouldn't be that difficult._

Scorpius decided that perhaps he would find this whole thing easier if he had some of Ogden's finest in his system ( _Merlin knows Rose seemed to find it easier to confess her undying love to him when she was plastered – maybe it would work for him too)._ After downing a (arguably too large) glass of Firewhiskey, he tried again.

* * *

Attempt Six:

 _Rose,_

 _I dream of you most every night, imagine you lying amongst my sheets, how you would feel held against me, moving under me. I imagine myself on my knees before you, begging to let me be yours in every possible sense. My every waking moment is plagued with visions your face, your eyes, your laugh. Please put me out of my misery and consent to accompany me to dinner._

 _With all my heart,_

 _Your Scorpius_

* * *

He read it once. He read it twice. He cringed very hard both times. Yes, Rose had kissed him, but that absolutely did _not_ mean that she was ready to read about him thinking about fucking her. _That is not how you ask a woman out Scorpius, especially not one you love. Tone down the horny._

* * *

Attempt Seven:

 _My Dearest Rosie,_

 _I think we're a great team, but not like a Quidditch team, more like a duo; just the two of us, kicking ass and having fun. I think that's great. I think you're great. And I think you make me great. So how's about we see if we're great at dating too? I'll even try cooking._

 _Much Love,_

 _Scorpius._

* * *

That was about the best he had managed so far. _Dear Merlin!_ That was seriously the best he had managed. Why was asking out a girl so hard? He'd done it plenty of times before. Not that asking a casual acquaintance back to his place for a casual screw really counted. But still! He had asked out a girl or two in his time. Granted, that was when 'going out' meant going to Hogsmede together, but _oh god how was he supposed to do this?!_ If he was going to do this he was going to do it right. And nothing that he had tried so far had been anywhere near right. Ok, just say exactly what you feel. But make it sound fancy. He was a prodigy at bullshitting; surely it shouldn't be too hard.

* * *

Attempt Eight:

 _Dear Rose,_

 _Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?_

* * *

HOLY SHIT BACK THE FUCK UP! WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?!

Scorpius Malfoy puts down his quill and decides that perhaps it is better if he just asked her in person, as he clearly wasn't good with the written word. He disposed of all his failed attempts in the nearest trashcan and poured himself a stiff drink. Heavens knows he needed it.

Scorpius knew they had the last match of the season against Rose's Harpies coming up in about 3 weeks. That would be the perfect time to ask her. He'd wait until after the match, congratulate her on the game, and ask her out for a drink sometime in the near future. Because he would like to get to know her better. And also because they had been through a lot during the World Cup. And also he was in love with her.

He poured himself another drink. It was going to be a long three weeks.

* * *

It was maybe a week and a half later when he hit the next hurdle in the form of a seven-foot giant who almost broke down his door. The Giant wasn't exactly subtle about his intentions.

"So what are you waiting for?" Maurice boomed the second Scorpius opened the door to him. The man-mountain walked straight past him and into his house. Scorpius stayed at the door and made note of having a polite conversation with himself.

"Hello Maurice, I'm well thank you for asking, yourself? Oh that's good. Please come inside"

As he closed the door, Scorpius looked at his previous teammate irritably but was met with little more than disdain from the huge man occupying most of the space in his living room. They face off silently across the room for several moments, each waiting for the other to speak first.

Scorpius, the stubborn ass, knew he has this game won. And win he does after barely 15 seconds.

"Well?!" Maurice demanded, clearly unhappy with him for reasons Scorpius couldn't identify. Or, more appropriately, refused to identify.

"Well what?" Scorpius retorted and tried his best not to sound like a sullen child.

"What are you waiting for?" Maurice demanded, growing more impatient. Scorpius hadn't the foggiest idea why – surely if anyone had the right to be acting indignantly it was the person whose house had been invaded by a shouty giant ( _i.e.: Scorpius_ ).

"Currently? I'm waiting for you to explain just what in the name of Merlin you're talking about?" Scorpius felt his usual calm exterior slipping to reveal what was undoubtedly the impact of having to reconcile the fact that Rose technically died and he technically watched and hadn't been able to save her.

 _Yeah, let's not think about that._

"Rose!" Maurice shouted as if it was obvious, "What the hell are you doing about Rose?"

Scorpius crossed his arms and ignored Maurice, pointedly looking at his finger nails coolly, "I'm not sure what you mean."

He received a scoff in response.

"What I mean is that I have just visited Rose and when I asked about the two of you she looked at me like I'd grown a second head."

Scorpius tried to mimic the expression to Maurice then, just to piss him off. If the loud exhale through his nose was anything to go by, Scorpius would guess he'd succeeded.

"Do _not_ test me, Malfoy," the much larger man said through gritted teeth, staring him down relentlessly, "Now what the fuck are you doing?"

"If I was doing anything – and that isn't to say that I am – but if I was, I would have absolutely no compulsion to tell you about it."

"Oh just cut the bullshit," it occurred to Scorpius that he's not sure he'd ever seen Maurice so fired up off a Quidditch pitch. He started trying to remember his Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons about what to do when confronted by a troll. Maurice was basically the same build as a troll, maybe those tactics would work.

Maurice continued. "Rose has been through a lot, she doesn't need to deal with this as well."

"What, my not being a nuisance?" Scorpius interjected sarcastically. Maurice pointedly ignored his comment.

"And look, to be perfectly honest with you, before we all played together for the World Cup, I would have said she could do a damn lot better than you."

Scorpius scowled, "No please, don't bother trying to protect my feelings…"

"Don't give me that," Maurice brushed it off as easily as he would a fly, "I always just thought you were an arrogant sod –"

"The feeling is mutual." Now he's just being catty for the sake of it. And no one can stop him.

"-But you've proven me wrong," the honest compliment threw him. His inner Slytherin scoffed, _This isn't how arguments work, Maurice,_ "You're a good guy, Scorp, and I want the best for you. But I swear to Merlin, if you keep up this sulky child bullshit than I will stop being your wingman and start pushing her towards other, less stubborn guys."

Back in argument territory. Excellent!

"Wingman?" Scorpius questioned with a sassy raised eyebrow, "Since when have you ever been my wingman?"

"Oh when have I not been your wingman for Rose?" Maurice crossed his giant arms, and Scorpius was suddenly reminded how abnormally large his biceps are. _Maybe the troll spells wouldn't work – he's never seen a troll that buff._

" _Literally always,"_ He deadpanned.

"Thank you."

"…That wasn't a compliment," Scorpius clarified.

Maurice looked confused. "You said I was literally always your wingman."

"No, I said you were literally always _never_ my wingman. Meaning you've never been my wingman," sassy eyebrow flew skyward once more, "Grammar isn't exactly you're strong suit is it, Maurice?"

"No, but bench presses are – you wanna continue going down this path or are you happy with taking the conversation back to it's origins?"

Scorpius did not look like a petulant child. _He didn't._ No matter what Maurice's disapproving eye roll suggested.

He sniffed, "I would prefer to have this conversation terminated as soon as possible, actually."

"You don't have the luxury of calling the shots," Maurice fired back, unrepentant, "You lost that right when you decided to sit on your ass and do precisely _sweet fuck all_ since leaving the hospital."

"That's not true!" Scorpius defended quickly ( _too quickly, now he knows you're lying you twat_ ), "I've done things."

"Things?" Maurice smiled at him, flashing his bright white teeth as a gleam Scorpius didn't like the look of lit up his eyes. The giant opposite him stretched his arms wide in a deceptively welcoming manner, "Please, enlighten me with your progress."

Scorpius shifted uneasily and tried to decide whether he would be in a better or worse position if he punched his friend right in his mouth. The inevitable hospitalisation that would result from Maurice's retaliation might just be worth it if it meant that he didn't have to continue this conversation.

Scorpius knew his friend too well though – he was relentless in all areas of his life, not just Quidditch. Scorpius could see himself awakening from a coma to find Maurice sitting by his bedside ready to pick up where they left it.

( _Scorpius didn't like to dwell on thoughts of hospital beds and comas. It made his stomach drop and often resulted in him feeling as if he needed to vomit, the sound of bones breaking filling his ears)_

"I don't have to justify myself to you."

"No, you don't," Maurice settled himself on the arm of Scorpius' couch ( _which he hated, but never mind that you great big oaf_ ) and looked entirely too pleased with himself, "But if you don't then you're basically admitting you ain't done shit."

 _Ain't done shit._ Scorpius sometimes simply had to stop and marvel at the depths to which the English language had fallen.

Now was not the time for marvelling, however, as he was far too concerned with preventing himself from sprouting something stupid in retaliation.

"I've written her letters."

 _You utter prat._

"Oh right," Maurice laughed sarcastically, "You've written her letters."

As the silence stretched out the thickness of the atmosphere rose, and Maurice came to the stark realization that Scorpius was not, in fact, lying. Scorpius could see the exact moment he came to the conclusion, watching his features fall in equal parts horror and pity.

Scorpius was sorely tempted to stab himself in the eye.

"Dear Merlin you've actually written her letters, haven't you?"

"I'd rather like it if you'd just leave-"

"OH FOR MERLIN'S SAKE – JUST _TALK_ TO HER!"

"It's not that easy!" Scorpius fired back loudly, wishing to any and every heavenly body around that he could simply seep into the floorboards and disappear.

"Are you kidding? Rose is one of the easiest people to talk to I've ever met! You can charm strangers with a wink; just do the same thing with Rose!"

"I can't…" Scorpius tried to breathe to relax himself. It was largely unsuccessful.

"Why not?"

And then the ugly truth spewed out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Because she's not a stranger!" Scorpius exclaimed, "She's Rose _fucking_ Weasley! She's England's best Quidditch player, and she's incredible, and she's beautiful, and she's scary as hell! I can't just _talk to her._ "

"Of course you can! You've done it all season – what's different now?"

"Everything! Everything is different now!"

"You're not making sense!" Maurice exclaimed, fed up with the whole thing (which made two of them), "It's just you and Rose, and…"

Scorpius interrupted, defensive and angry. "No it's not! This isn't just Rose rocking up on my doorstep at 3am to tell me she loves me –"

"Whoa! When did-"

"And it's not just me telling her I love her in some corridor somewhere –"

"Ok just hold the fuck up!" Maurice interjected; his hands outstretched signaling Scorpius to stop. Which was probably for the best; before he said something he'd regret.

Correction: something _else_ he'd regret.

"Rose has told you she loves you?"

Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. Those moments were private; he didn't want to go sharing them with anyone. Hell, even Rose didn't completely remember them and she'd been there; it hardly seemed fair to share it with anyone else.

"Kind of," Scorpius shrugged and shifts again, "But only those few times when she was really drunk…"

Maurice ignored his murmuring, "And you've told her you love her?"

"Well, not explicitly like that, but it was implied…"

"MERLIN'S SAGGY RIGHT TESTICLE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

And that was just about as much as Scorpius could take.

"SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER!" Scorpius yelled, giving into the very strong urge to act like a two year old by stomping his foot in frustration (at Maurice not listening to him, or to Rose not remembering, or at himself for not being able to write a bloody letter, or a combination of the three he's not entirely sure), "She _never_ remembers. She tells me she loves me, then she wakes up and hates me again. It happens when she's drunk, then it happens when she gets hit in the head by a bloody bludger. And I don't want to risk starting something only for her to forget or change her mind, because it's exhausting and humiliating and _painful_ every time it happens. And you know what? I quite enjoy avoiding pain – I'd class it as a top hobby of mine! And trying to ask Rose on a date, though it may seem obvious and straightforward to an outsider, is a damn lot more complicated in reality. Because it could be painful, because I love her, and I will not risk fucking this up and making her walk away from me because it's going to hurt _too fucking much!_ I almost lost her once because _she almost fucking died and I refuse to lose her again!_ "

By the time Scorpius had finished yelling he felt a lot like a balloon that's just burst and spent the last 5 minutes wildly flailing around the room, only to deflate and fall on the floor in a rubbery heap. He was exhausted, a weight lifted from his shoulders only to leave him with a feeling of hopelessness and dread. He'd voiced it all now, which meant that it's real. And he much preferred it when he could keep things that involved _emotions and whatnot_ locked safely inside away from prying eyes, so he can pretend they don't exist.

He wondered idly if his neighbours heard his little outburst. He wasn't sure his silencing charms were that good.

When Scorpius finally worked up the courage to face his friend (although he was seriously reconsidering calling Maurice that), he was met with big sympathetic brown eyes that he honestly had no time for. He watched, anticipating his opponent's next move, as Maurice rose from his spot on the couch armrest and straightened out his shirt.

"I get it," Scorpius doesn't think he gets it, "You're scared. But you can't let that hold you back."

Scorpius believes that he can, absolutely, let that hold him back.

"Because the scariest things often lead to the happiest outcomes."

 _Except, you know, scary things like fighting a rabid dragon, or jumping off a cliff, or slow dancing with a Dementor. All of which, Scorpius is quite sure, result in hideous painful death._

Maurice walked over to him, patted him on the shoulder in a manner Scorpius was sure wasn't meant to feel condescending but does all the same, and shook his head.

"She hasn't forgotten that morning in the hospital," Maurice said as he walked to the door, "And neither have I. I remember the kiss before the final, and how you two looked at each other before I walked in at the hospital."

 _Yes, and totally ruined the moment you colossal dickweed._

"It's real, Scorp," goddam he hated when people called him that, "The way she looks at you. And it means something. But if you keep sitting here, writing letters you never send, she's gunna try and move on and she'll leave you behind. And that will really hurt because you'll know she would have stayed if you'd just asked her to."

Maurice turned back and looked at Scorpius as he was half way out the door, the sunlight framing him in a deceptively angelic light for someone who'd just made his morning hell.

"Just promise me you'll at least ask her to dinner."

Scorpius picked at his nail again. "I don't see why I should have to promise you anyth-"

" _Scorp…_ "

"Fine! I'll ask her," he kicked at nothing in particular on his floor, "After the Harpies match."

Maurice let out a disapproving murmur.

"That way if she says no I won't have to see her for the entire offseason."

Maurice didn't seem to agree with him completely, but recognized a victory when he had it. He nodded, seemingly accepting this arrangement, and walked out the door without so much of a 'good-bye'. Scorpius supposed it was fitting seeing as he never actually said 'hello' either. He just kind of appeared at his doorstep, spent half an hour yelling at him, then disappeared. Like some weird, aggressive, time-poor ghost.

Scorpius returned to his writing desk, looked at the trash can filled with all his failed attempts, and reconciles the fact that perhaps Maurice had a point; perhaps he was being a _little bit_ cowardly about this whole thing. Maybe he just had to be brave.

Scorpius decided that his new plan has only one step –

 _Ask Rose to dinner after the Harpies match._

One step. It wasn't that hard. He could manage one step.

And if she said no he'd just run away to Latvia and never set foot in England again. That seemed like how a sane, well-adjusted adult would handle this situation.

* * *

So, he failed his one and only step. Spectacularly.

See, Scorpius hadn't planned on kissing her at all. Not yet anyway. But they were at Quidditch, and the last time they were on a field together he'd been the happiest he had ever been in his life because _Merlin's hairy cock Rose Weasley fancied him_ , and then he almost collapsed because _sweet holy fuck Rose Weasley almost died,_ and he simply forgot his one fancy new step, and instead gave into every urge in his body. All of which were telling him to kiss Rose Weasley.

So with a sarcastic quip and a flash of that muggle fairytale about Sleeping Beauty, Scorpius had dragged Rose forward, wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed her senseless. Time slows down, his eyes close as he let's himself give into the wondrous feeling of holding Rose Weasley close. He feels her fall into him, her hand fisting in his robes then moving into his hair.

 _Yes,_ every fiber in his body breathes, _this is it._

It takes him a moment to register the cheers and loud 'whooping' coming at him from all angles, and only then does he remember that he's supposed to be getting ready for a very important Quidditch match. So he lets her go, takes a step back and tries to remind himself that there are other matters at hand here. Of course that's somewhat difficult to do when she's looking at him all dazed and confused. He's sorely tempted to reach in again, to pull her close and hold her tight and continue kissing her and to never let her go. But not now, this has to wait. After the game, during which he can attempt to think up another genius plan to woo her seeing as he's already destroyed his most recent plan. Again.

He lets out a heavy sigh before murmuring, " _A pleasure as always_ ," and she's still looking at him like he's speaking elfish. In an attempt to see that fire back in her eyes, and to not let anyone who's close enough to hear think he's gone too soft, Scorpius adds, "Enjoy trying to focus on the game now," and does his best to mount his broom as elegantly as possible.

The snitch is released and the game is officially in motion. Scorpius grins the whole damn time.

* * *

" _You!_ "

The post-match commiserations and murmuring stops suddenly and the room is eerily silent. Scorpius can feel it – her eyes on him, burning a hole into the back of his skull. He turns slowly, smirk fixed in place.

"Weasley," he says, failing quite spectacularly at not sounding arrogant (but he wasn't really trying that hard, she liked him that way apparently), "Come to accost me in the change rooms for another romantic rendezvous?"

Her face is as red as her hair and he knows its not from exertion – it is pure rage.

And damn him to hell he's never been more attracted to her in his entire life.

He sees her chest rising and falling with every breath she takes. Her right eye seems to twitch a little and she grits her teeth. It's only now that he stops to take her in that he realizes she's still dressed in her uniform, obviously being too angry to get changed. Scorpius imagines that she's spent the past 20 or so minutes since the game ended pacing the change rooms angrily flailing her arms and yelling things like ' _who does he think he is?!_ ' Which is only slightly ( _read: very_ ) gratifying.

"You _snake_ ," she spits the word so vehemently that Scorpius swears she could have literally spat venom at him had she tried just a bit harder, "You _dirty, mother-fucking snake._ "

Rose advances slowly towards him with each word and his team suddenly feels the need to make themselves scarce, all deciding they were apparently ready to apparate the hell out of there, regardless of their various states of undress.

 _Way to leave your Captain hopeless and defenseless you scoundrels._

Scorpius and Rose find themselves alone in the Farmouth Falcons change rooms encased in an eerie silence that spoke of bad things to come for Scorpius. He mentally slaps himself for not having the foresight to assume she would get angry at him after his impromptu display of affection at the beginning of the match and keep his wand on him for safety. Although, from what he can tell, she doesn't appear to be armed either.

So apparently she's planning to just tear him limb of limb with her two bare hands. Just smashing.

"Slytherin," he swears he didn't _consciously_ try to sound condescending, it just kind of came out that way, "You really shouldn't be surprised by certain 'snake-like' tendencies."

"Is this a fucking joke to you?!" And now she's screaming. _Top Job Scorp, kick the hornet's nest a little harder next time, won't you? "_ Am _I_ a fucking joke to you?!"

"No, why would you-"

" _How dare you_ embarrass me in front of the entire Stadium?!"

"Embarrass?" _don't smirk, don't smirk, don't smirk. Goddam there it goes,_ "Why Rosie, don't tell me you're afraid to show the world how you feel about me?"

Scorpius momentarily panics that he may actually force the love of his life to explode with shear rage.

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa! Love of your life?! Get a hold of yourself man! It's not that serious!_

 _(But it really is, actually)_

Scorpius looks at where Rose stands, shaking with fury as she tries to find the words to convey what he imagines is a plethora of emotions. He knows the feeling well.

"Oh I'm not ashamed to tell anyone who I feel about you, _YOU COLOSSAL WATSE OF SKIN!"_

"Now, now, we both know you're quite fond of me and my skin."

"And what exactly made you come to that conclusion, you…you…shitfaced...rectal butler!"

 _Shitfaced rectal butler. She really outdid herself with that one. He'll have to remember it._

"Why are you angry at me, love?"

" _TAKE A FUCKING GUESS!"_

When did she get so close? Somehow she's managed to get herself so close she's barely four feet away. Almost within striking distance. He choses his next words carefully.

"Well I know you're mad that I kissed you –"

" _YOU THINK?!"_

Later, much later, when she no longer wants to rip him limb from limb, he's going to have to have a chat to Rose about speaking at an appropriate decibel level when in confined spaces that reverberate sounds such as, to take a completely random example, the Falcons' change rooms.

"But what I'm asking is _why_ you're mad that I kissed you?"

"SERIOUSLY?! You need me to spell it out for you?!"

Scorpius stepped up to her, only noticing now just how much shorter then him she was. He smiles, stops himself from sweeping a stray hair behind her ear.

"Yes, tell me _exactly_ why you're so upset."

She clamps her mouth shut, as if physically attempting to keep the words from escaping her mouth, her fists clenched at her side and her body shaking in what he assumes is inconsolable anger. Then, with a flash of something akin to hurt filling her eyes, Rose explodes.

" _Because you've made me care about you and now you're using it against me!"_

That was…

That was not what he was expecting.

Scorpius had expected her to be angry that he hadn't asked her out, that he'd gone around kissing her without making his intentions clear. He was prepared for that – she would yell at him about not being allowed to kiss her then walk away, and then he would conjure a bouquet and very charmingly confess that he wasn't walking away before asking her to dinner. He'd had it planned perfectly (he was pretty damned impressed with the plan actually, considering he'd made it up literally _on the fly_ during the game).

And now here he was, faced with an angry, broken Rose Weasley who thought he was playing her like this was some kind of game. Scorpius comes to the very stark realization that Rose – Rose, who was supposed to be half-Hermione Granger and therefore have some kind of sense to her – was under the very false impression that he didn't care about her.

Well he'd just have to remedy that catastrophic misunderstanding as soon as possible.

And somehow the only thing he can think of to do is the very thing that brought her here in the first place.

 _When something hurts, you kiss it better. It's science._

Scorpius closes his eyes and pulls her forward and kisses her with all that he's worth. His hands dig into her hair and he holds her close, feels her body mold to his. He never wants to let her go, wants to keep her here like this forever. But things need to be said, important things. Which he'll say. In a minute.

Pulling away takes all the strength her never knew he had, and Scorpius realizes that Maurice was right – _this is real_. _And that's terrifying. But you have to push through it._

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only one who cares, Rose," he barely recognized his own voice it was raw and honest. He was sure that was a good thing though. Rose meets his gaze and tried to plaster on a brave smile (she fails rather badly at it but Merlin help him he thinks it's adorable).

"You don't expect me to believe Scorpius Malfoy actually has a heart, do you?"

The look she gives him is like she's almost begging him to prove her wrong. He can't quite believe it, that she still isn't sure.

 _It's not like I go around making grand romantic gestures for just anyone._

"You should know that better than most Rosie, after all," he smiles as he sees the hope light up in her eyes and he is struck once again by just how much he loves her, "I gave it to you long ago."

There's a moment, a tiny moment, after he speaks when everything's a little too serious. A little too tense. A little too suffocating. A little too true for his liking.

 _This is dangerous territory. You've fed her ammunition – she could destroy you._

And he suddenly wants to snatch back the words, wishes he hadn't let her hear them, because now she knows the truth. And the truth could tear him apart.

The endless rhetoric starts – _there's a reason you don't do attachment, because it doesn't work out. Love is something meant for other people, not for a Malfoy, and certainly not with a Weasley_ – and he almost drowns in the thoughts he has fought so hard to hide.

It appears, however, that he and Rose are more alike than either of them likes to admit. For just as Scorpius had resorted to kissing her when he couldn't find the words, that's exactly what Rose does not a second after he's made his declaration.

She wraps her arms around his neck and melts into him, sealing her lips to his in what he imagines is her way of saying ' _I love you too.'_ He's delirious, part of him not quite believing this is happening, but then he stops thinking and lets himself simply be with Rose Weasley.

Scorpius wraps a hand around her hips and pulls her forward, rocks against her as he struggles to remember to breathe. She gasps, something snapping inside her, as she pushes him back against the lockers. He spins her, hikes her up against the wall and settles himself between her thighs. Another sigh. He was never going to get sick of that sound.

Scorpius nips at her bottom lip, smiles when she jolts at the sensation, then feels all his blood rush south _very_ quickly when she throws a leg over his hip and thrusts against him. He gets lost in the feeling, ruts against her gracelessly and kisses her madly, driven insane by the way her hands travel over inch of him they can reach. Gods he's waited so long for this. Through her telling him she loves him then hates him, and watching her die then come back to life. He wants this moment to be cemented in both their minds. Wants to make it so perfect that there is no way she is going to forget this – how perfect they feel, how right they are together, and how much he loves her. He needs her to remember this as long as she lives. He knows he will.

A sharp intake of breath through his nose brings him back to reality. He smells sweat and soap and leather and remembers that they are in the freaking locker room.

 _She deserves better than a mindless fuck against the lockers._

 _(But lets not rule that out in the future)_

It takes every ounce of his strength for Scorpius to take hold of her wrists and remove them from his body, fixing them to the lockers with his grasp. He steps back a little, allowing air to move between them again.

"No Rose," he manages to breathe out, trying desperately to remind himself why it's a good idea to stop when she lets out a groan that he really wants to make her make again.

"Why?" she looks angry – frustrated – but Scorpius knows her better than that, and sees the little twinge of insecurity flitter through her expression. He takes it as his personal responsibility to erase that insecurity.

"Because," he squeezes her hands where he's pinned them to the locker behind her before stepping into her so there is no possible way that she doesn't get a good feel of how much he really wants this to continue. He takes much too much pleasure in the whimper she lets out in response, "I have dreamed about being with you for too long to let our first time be in a dirty, smelly change room."

And then he decides to start playing mean.

Scorpius drops his head to run his lips up her neck in a very slow ascent to her earlobe so he can whisper to her. He rolls his hips again – which elicits another sharp intake of breath – and says, "I am going to take you to my apartment."

He thrusts and she bites her lip in response, "I am going to strip every last article of clothing off you."

Scorpius places his thigh between her legs and _sweet holy merlin_ she grinds against him. Seems he isn't the only one playing mean. "And then I am going to take my sweet time learning every inch of you when you're naked in my bed, before having you on every available surface."

He swears to Merlin she keens – _keens_ – and rubs against him more deliberately. Once Rose opens her eyes, he's met with fire and he thanks whatever heavenly body there is in existence that's decided to bless him with Rose Weasley's affections.

"I haven't got all day Malfoy – what are you waiting for?"

Nothing. He wasn't waiting for anything at all.

* * *

 _And that is that! All done!_

 _I was gunna add some smut at the end here, but then I decided it just kind of finished off nicely here. Besides, there was some more smut in 'Four Times…' so you can always go there to get a mini-fix if that's what you're after._

 _I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and I am so very sorry it took me so long to get this companion piece finished. Also, if anyone's interested I have written a bit of an interlude to go between chapter 3 and four of GRG, which goes through what Scorpius did and thought while he was at the hospital. If people are keen I'll upload it, I only really used it to get a grasp for how he would react in this chapter. Of course I'd have to finish it first, but I could probably make that happen._

 _Much love to any and all who are reading this. I wish you all peace, happiness, and safety in a world that has been filled with so much fear._

 _All my love,_

 _Grae xo._


End file.
